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Sagres's gaze turned completely cold. His eyes no longer held any warmth, as if he were looking at nothing more than a noisy insect.
He chuckled softly, no longer sparing Rita a glance nor responding to her clamor.
Just as Rita thought he was speechless and was about to launch a more ferocious verbal assault—
A sudden change occurred!
The silent, nauseating flesh monster moved without warning!
It wasn't the sluggish writhing from before, but several thick, blood-red tendrils, slick with slime and dotted with eyeballs, that shot out like venomous snakes lying in wait, their speed surpassing everyone's reactions.
"Ah—!" Rita Skeeter managed only a short, sharp, twisted scream.
The tendrils coiled around her waist, legs, and flailing arms, and with immense force instantly yanked her off the ground, dragging her toward the monster's crimson, twisted body.
Her Quick-Quotes Quill traced a meaningless arc in the air before being snatched away by another tendril.
The other reporters screamed in terror, scrambling backward.
"Ugh—!"
Fudge also let out a shrill, broken scream, his entire face drained of color. The Aurors around him instinctively raised their wands, but had no time to aim.
"Stop!" Dumbledore roared, a torrent of magic—blazing like molten lava and powerful enough to tear through rock—erupted from the tip of his wand and swept forward.
However, the moment the magic touched the monster, it was immediately devoured, greedily absorbed into the writhing, foul flesh!
Only then did the Aurors act, a dozen deadly curses of varying colors raining down on the creature.
But the monster remained unharmed; instead, its nauseating body swelled and spread violently, emitting a sickening squelch. Before their horrified eyes, its mass inexplicably ballooned even larger, exuding an overpowering stench of blood and decay.
The sudden transformation stunned everyone.
Under their terrified gazes, Rita Skeeter's heavily powdered face—frozen in horror and disbelief—along with her piercing screams, slowly sank into the monster's body like a stone into water…
Gulp…
A dull, bone-chilling swallowing sound echoed through the deathly silent Chamber of Secrets, reverberating in every heart.
The monster writhed slightly, and for a fleeting moment, strands of Rita's distinctive golden curls and a scrap of her brightly colored clothing surfaced along the viscous flesh, only to be drawn back in and consumed.
On its grotesque, eye-riddled "face," an expression of eerie satisfaction seemed to flicker.
The Chamber fell into suffocating silence, broken only by the occasional sounds of digestion and the heavy, uneven breathing of the onlookers.
"What have you done?"
The previously outspoken School Board member demanded, his voice trembling. But before he could finish, a thick tentacle coiled around his waist, tightening like a snake.
This well-dressed, white-haired old Wizard from a pure-blood family didn't even have time to cry out before the viscous tentacle dragged him towards the towering flesh monster.
The next second, countless fine, crimson tendrils shot out from the monster's body, instantly wrapping around him. In moments, he was completely encased in a writhing cocoon of living blood before being pulled back into the creature's mass.
"You… you…"
Fudge's entire body trembled, nearly collapsing where he stood, cold sweat soaking the brim of his bowler hat.
Almost at once, another thick, glowing tentacle whipped out with a shriek, lashing towards him. It coiled tightly around his arm.
Slash!
With a muffled crack of bone and tearing flesh, Cornelius Fudge's arm, still clad in its fine woolen sleeve, was severed cleanly at the shoulder!
It was Dumbledore who saved him—acting at the last instant, the Headmaster had severed the trapped arm with a precise spell before the tentacle could drag the Minister into the monster's maw.
The severed arm flew through the air, spraying blood in an arc.
Fudge's scream caught in his throat from the shock of pain, leaving only a strangled gasp as his body pitched forward, stumbling under the force.
Before the arm could hit the floor, a gaping, viscous maw opened on the monster's surface, snapping it up and swallowing it whole like a python devouring prey.
The Aurors' wands shook in their hands, but none dared fire, fearing they would be the next to be seized.
The School Board members were deathly pale.
The reporters had collapsed in terror. Malfoy's sneer froze on his lips, his eyes betraying true fear. Even the four Heads of House held their breath, stunned into silence.
Sagres stood motionless, slowly lifting his eyes. His deep gaze swept across the faces twisted with fear, finally fixing on Fudge and the Aurors.
His voice was terrifyingly calm, as if he were merely stating a fact: "Now, it's quiet."
He paused, his gaze boring into Fudge like a physical weight. "Minister, do you—or your Aurors—still have different opinions about my explanation?"
Fudge's lips trembled, but no words came out.
He looked at Sagres in horror, then at the monster—more grotesquely "alive" after its fresh feast of flesh—and finally at Dumbledore, who stood silently by.
Terror consumed him.
"It seems not."
Sagres gave a slight nod, his eyes sweeping over the group until one by one, every head lowered. Only then did he withdraw his gaze, seemingly satisfied.
Only Dumbledore's eyes remained fixed, shifting between Sagres and the monster, filled with a gravity and scrutiny unlike ever before.
Sagres acted as though he noticed nothing of the suffocating fear pressing down around him. With casual ease, he lifted a hand and gestured at the flesh monster that had just completed its "devouring," his tone light, almost as if he were commenting on a piece of artwork:
"It seems Salazar Slytherin's flesh creation truly lives up to its reputation."
He paused, then added almost indifferently, "And even stripped of Lord Voldemort's memories, the bloodlust ingrained in his very bones remains dangerously strong…"
Sagres brazenly and casually attributed the bloody attack to the "residual instincts of Lord Voldemort" and the "characteristics of Slytherin's creation."
As for whether others believed him? That wasn't important.
He figured that, given Salazar's personality, he probably wouldn't care about such trivial details. And Ravenclaw, being such a powerful Seer, should have told Salazar long ago that his reputation would be tarnished a thousand years later… right?
Sagres turned his gaze to Fudge, slumped on the ground with an ashen face, then swept over the pale School Board members standing behind the crowd. His voice carried a deep tone of regret:
"This is truly unfortunate, gentlemen. Even if I hadn't warned you, you should never have provoked it."
He shook his head and continued, "For the two unfortunate Wizard colleagues who perished, and for you, Minister… your lost arm, I offer my deepest sympathies. However…"
His tone shifted, laced with a chilling hint of mockery, "—fortunately, you still have one left. For handling documents and signing… that should be no problem."
His gaze swept slowly across the faces that, moments ago, had been filled with suspicion and accusation toward him. His smile now appeared "tolerant" and "benevolent":
"Although your earlier doubts and accusations left me somewhat indignant, I am, after all, benevolent and magnanimous. Therefore, not only will I let bygones be bygones, I will also personally help you resolve this problem."
With that, he raised his wand, its tip aimed squarely at the silent flesh monster.
"฿ⱠØØĐ VØⱤ₮ɆӾ ₮ØⱤⱤɆ₦₮!"
At his cold incantation, the solid ground beneath the monster instantly began to boil.
A huge, viscous blood vortex appeared out of thin air. In its raging whirl, the flesh monster was like a wax figure cast into boiling water; its tough flesh corroded, stripped away, and dissolved at a visible rate.
Cree~~
The monster gave a silent roar, struggling violently as it was consumed by the surging waves of blood. In just a few seconds, its thirty-foot body was swallowed whole, leaving not a trace behind.
The ground returned to its normal state, as though the monster had been nothing more than a shared nightmare.
Sagres elegantly lowered his wand, his tone relaxed:
"Alright, as you can see, after a difficult struggle, the problem is finally resolved."
He shook his head in feigned regret. "It's just a pity that our 'brave and fearless,' 'never-compromise' Ms. Skeeter, I'm afraid, won't be able to personally write this thrilling report. However…"
A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "…War correspondents have always been a high-risk profession. Didn't she just shout about being fearless in pursuit of the truth? I think she's probably gotten the truth she wanted by now."
His gaze, cold as shards of ice, swept indifferently over the crowd. His wand turned, pointing toward the School Board members who had just been the loudest in their accusations:
"And one particularly 'active' School Board member seems to have also sacrificed his precious life for Hogwarts in this misfortune? Haah~ What a shame."
His voice carried open mockery. "But you don't need to grieve too much—after all, Hogwarts still has eleven more 'enthusiastic' School Board members like him…"
Finally, he looked to Dumbledore, who had remained silently watching, and his tone shifted back to calm neutrality:
"Well, Headmaster Dumbledore, matters here are settled. I trust you can arrange the follow-up properly without my further interference."
With that, he ignored the stunned crowd, turned, and strode directly toward the exit of the Chamber of Secrets.